Reaching For One's Dreams
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: AU. The path to achieving one's dreams is never easy. But Kenshin is determined to never give up, to never. Now he just needs to find some people just like him.
1. Chapter 1

It was a little red Ford Tempo that had pulled in front of the large apartment complex, a little Ford Tempo that had seen better days. Age was apparent – it didn't look like any of the newer models that were parked along the street and in the nearby parking lots. Its hood had dents and so did the sides. The owner, a young man with long red hair that had been swept back into a low tail, blue eyes, and a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, climbed out and gazed at the tall building. Kenshin quickly glanced at the piece of paper in his hand then smiled.

'Finally made it,' he sighed happily, folding it back up. 'Didn't think I would. Not with the way this old beast has been acting.'

He gave it a loving pat before grabbing his keys and heading inside. There was a lot he still had to do just yet. Getting the key to his new apartment was only the beginning.

Three hours later, he had all of the boxes from his car in the apartment. Most of his possessions consisted of old books and some book shelves. He had his clothes, a stereo system, a traditional futon, an old guitar and a katana. The phone would be connected in a few days. He still needed plates and bowls, silverware, glasses . . . and furniture. Even with the boxes scattered throughout the place, it still looked bare, un-lived in.

'All of that can be taken care of tomorrow,' Kenshin thought as he leaned against the wall, guitar in hand. A piece of paper and a pen sat to his right, a black line through one of the words that had been written.

Find an apartment

He chuckled as he idly strummed the guitar. Phase one of his plan had been completed. The next part, finding the right bandmates to form a group, would prove to be much more difficult than finding a place to live.

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_Journal Entry #15. Date: June 1, 1995 _

I've finally moved into my new place. It isn't much . . . but then it doesn't need to be, as I'm the only one going to be living here . . . I won't make the mistake of letting other people move in with me again.

I'm hoping things work out this time. I really do . . . because this is it. I don't have it in me to pack up and relocate again.

Tomorrow, I'll buy the local paper and go through the ads . . . and work on my own. There has to be someone out there who wants to do what I do . . . who wants to play for the love of playing . . .

Kenshin lowered his pen then let out a sigh. He didn't want to tread down memory lane. Not tonight. Setting his pen down and putting his guitar back in its case. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

There came a knock to the door and he smiled. His first meal in his new home had arrived.

'Yes . . . tomorrow will be busy . . . Very busy indeed!'


	2. Chapter 2

Kenshin rose early the next morning, and ate a cold breakfast of leftover Chinese. After a quick shower and dressing, he then left his apartment. Jobs didn't come to you, after all. You had to go to them. And the best way to find a job was to get the local paper. Since Los Angeles was one of the largest cities in the United States, there were several pages of classifieds to go through.

He made his way down the street to a local coffee shop where he knew newspapers would be sold. When he had been searching for apartments to rent, he made sure to check out the surrounding area. Area businesses were key in how "quiet" a neighbourhood would be and how quickly he'd be able to find a band to play in.

At the coffee shop, he purchased two papers and a cup of regular coffee then made his way to one of the many tables. Within moments, he had immersed himself into the classifieds and began singling out potential jobs. He did, after all, know his own skills and his own intellect. Once he had a good-sized list of potential employers, Kenshin left the coffee shop. He had a busy day ahead of him.

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A few days after he'd put his applications in, and after he'd placed an ad for a band, Kenshin finally got the break he was looking for. Well, not exactly the kind of break he was looking for but he wouldn't have to worry about going hungry any time soon.

'And if I do things just right, I won't have to worry about rent, either,' he thought to himself as he stepped into the bar. 'So here goes nothing.'


	3. Chapter 3

Kenshin sighed softly as he poured another drink and handed it to the waitress. Then his gaze turned wistfully towards the stage area where a local favourite currently jammed away.

So far, things had been going relatively well for him. He'd gotten the job at the bar instantly. It gave him something to fill his time and helped him to pay his rent. Thanks to the tips, he managed to make ends meet.

However, much to his disappointment, he had not been able to join any of the local bands. At each audition they told him they liked his sound and the fact that he had plenty of experience in playing but . . .

'I'm not what they're looking for,' he lamented. 'Never what they're looking for.'

He hated how his hopes would be lifted . . . only to have them dashed an instant later. Such rejection gave him strange ideas at times . . . ideas like of performing solo . . . or at least starting his own band. Kenshin never acted on such thoughts, though. He wanted . . .

What did he want, he wondered. Was it acceptance? He'd gained it on some levels. The people looking for guitarists were impressed with his skill. That was a small form of acceptance. They just weren't looking for someone like him. Or was it they weren't searching for someone with his appearance?

'Stop it,' Kenshin scolded himself, mentally shaking his head. 'Thinking like that isn't going to get you anywhere! Focus!' He turned his attention back to serving drinks but the idea had wormed its way into his mind. It wouldn't leave him alone.

Neither did the thought of starting his own band. The more it rotated in his brain, the more Kenshin liked the idea. A smile crossed his features, the first geniune one since he'd moved to L.A.

'A band of my own . . . should have thought of that sooner.'

Tomorrow, he'd place the ads. In the meantime, he had a job to do . . .


End file.
